Ninety-three

What is a miracle?

One grand moment?

Getting something you wanted, exactly as you wanted?

Is it divine timing?

I believe it to be a series of things.

Good outcomes, that are likely to have been a tragedy otherwise.

My ninety-two year old grandmother-

sold as a slave, who fell into a well at seven.

The death of both parents by seventeen, left to raise four children.

At forty-five, bereaved again, with the loss of the love of her life.

At eighty-six, a gross tumour on her throat; non-cancerous.

At ninety-one, slipping and just glancing the support beams of the wall.

That hole in the wall is still there from her skull, mercifully intact on both counts.

At ninety-two, devastated that her daughter has the same cancer as her mother had.

Yet, she is still here. Physically weakening as time wears on, but her mind as sharp as ever.

It will be her ninety-third December 22nd. Just a year behind her champagne birthday.

Perhaps we'll have red wine for this one.

And, she is the most devote follower of Christ ive ever met. She owes it all to him.

I owe it to something. Something kind enough to leave me my grandmother, when none of us are ready to live without.